


Problematic

by purrpickle



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: Alcohol, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purrpickle/pseuds/purrpickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A heavily drunk Aubrey hits on a not-so-drunk Beca during Hood Night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Problematic

**Author's Note:**

> So, about two months ago, I fell deeply into a downward spiral of Mitchsen frenzy. Since then, I've been trying my hardest to figure out how to write it myself. This is my first finished attempt, even if I ended up struggling with it for a long, long time (so please forgive me for the thrown-at-the-wall-in-frantic-hopes-it'll-stick ending). Prompted by an anon; A heavily drunk Aubrey hits on a not-so-drunk Beca during Hood Night. Thanks!

Beca's laughing behind her nowhere-near-empty Solo cup. Jesse had given it to her at least half an hour ago, and seeing how it's scarcely lower than it had been, Beca knows she's half as drunk as she would have been if she had been imbibing pure vodka instead of the swill that is beer according to whomever had planned that night. It's weak stuff, and she's barely been drinking at all, so it's not her fault she's practically sober.

Taking in the rigid weaving that is Aubrey's stalking towards her, Beca only raises her eyebrows as she waits for the blonde to reach her. The older girl's been watching her all night - Beca's seen her - so she's beyond curious to see what is about to spew from unfairly appealing lips.

"That's  _Jesse_ you've been talking to," Aubrey hisses as soon as she pulls up next to Beca, finger pointing even as the rest of her hand holds her beer cup, "And if I'm not  _mistaken_ , he's a  _Treble_."

"So?" Beca asks boredly, free hand resting on her hip; she's waiting to see how  _passionate_  the senior's gonna get with her, "He's just someone I know."

Aubrey's lips pinch together. " _Beca_ ," she practically spits, pushing her hair back as it falls in front of her ear, " _You took an oath_."

"So?" Beca repeats, snorting, taking a full sip of the flat beer, "Is he anywhere near here now?" She gestures out, referencing where the boy has disappeared into the sea of red velvet teeming in the middle of the amphitheater, "Besides. You know I want…" She coughs, rolling her eyes, " _On_  him  _because_?"

Aubrey's eyes narrow. She steps closer, and Beca raises her chin, her own gaze shuttering as she meets piercing green.

"You're a Bella now," Aubrey lowers her voice, long fingers picking at her Solo cup; her knuckles skim along Beca's waist. "We have certain  _standards_ ," she snaps, "So if you want to  _stay_  with us, you better - " Her body shudders, her throat constricting as if she's about to choke. " _Wolves_!" she finally snaps, "Wolves that'll tear out your vocal chords!"

The sound of the party swirls below them, some sort of random pop song struggling to pipe up to them through the iPod speakers Justin-or-something had set up; barely paying attention, Beca manages to suppress a smile as Aubrey practically pants in her quest to recatch her breath. "Aubrey," she finally gives, nodding her head as if she's agreeing with the half-spoken diatribe the other woman's laid out, "I really shouldn't have to say this, as it's none of your business whatsoever, but I have  _no_  interest in Jesse. He's a friend, okay? Just a friend."

Aubrey straightens. Chin up, neck taut, she sways forward just enough that Beca has to set her feet so she doesn't sway the equal amount back. The blonde may be on the step below her, but it doesn't mean she's still not taller than her - and that the back of her knuckles still aren't brushing along her hip and stomach.

" _Beca_."

"Aubrey?"

Sighing, exhaling through her nose, darkened green eyes meet Beca's as Aubrey gazes at her. "Beca," she whispers again, almost purring, the fingers of her left hand suddenly sliding along Beca's cheek to push her hair back; waiting for the half-flinch Beca gives in response to pass before she continues her stroke forward, her palm cups Beca's face. "Beca…"

Beca swallows. As much as Chloe's practically an assault, their foreheads and chins almost knocking together as the redhead laughed about becoming "the best of friends", had surprised her, Aubrey's attention, somehow, is still more than she's prepared to deal with. She attempts to keep her expression neutral. "Y-yeah?"

Aubrey's lips split, her mouth spreading in an almost smug smile. "I'm not going to pretend," the older woman swallows thickly, a pink tongue swiping out to wet her lips, Beca's eyes falling to cheaply follow the motion, "That I'm going to let this go." She pauses, breathing in deeply before raising her drink almost like an afterthought to take another sip. Her opposite fingers tangle in Beca's hair absentmindedly, like she's stroking it just to feel it, her voice lilting up, almost humming, "That I'm going to let  _you_ … Let you throw the  _Bellas_ … Away."

"How…" Beca swallows, unable to stop herself from asking - from  _deflecting_ , "Drunk  _are_  you?"

Aubrey laughs. Her nails scratch above Beca's ear, palm brushing along Beca's earrings. "You're problematic," she finally responds, tilting her head as she spares a moment to look to the side where some BU Harmonics are presumably bickering via Madonna lyrics; turning back, she pushes forward to cup the back of Beca's neck, "And you're fucking  _alternative._   _What_  am I supposed to do…" Her grip tightens, "With you?"

Swallowing dryly, Beca's right hand grasps lightly at Aubrey's shirt, then snaps away when she realizes what she is doing. "Maybe…" she dares not to draw back as Aubrey leans in closer, subconsciously moving her drink from in between them to allow Aubrey closer access to her, "Whatever…" She breathes out, the other girl's lips practically on hers now, "You would dare to do while…"

"Yes…?"

Beca swallows again.  _This is ill-advised_ , she thinks,  _And why is this even happening?_  Dropping her gaze, she sinks back on her heels, putting space between them again. "Aubrey," she sighs, rolling her head, putting her chin up, "Whatever you would dare to do while, you know, sober?"

"Sober?" Aubrey frowns. She pulls back, minutely, eyes narrowed as she studies Beca's face, hand falling away a second later. "Wait," she says, almost accusingly, "How drunk do you think I am?" It's like she's insulted.

Beca raises her eyebrows.

Aubrey continues frowning at her.

Beca's neck tingles where Aubrey's hand had been. She drops her gaze, sniffs, and shrugs, taking a large swallow of her tepid beer. "I don't think you and I are meant to get along," she explains blandly, trying not to stare at how – still – unfairly attractive the older girl is, helped by the alcohol in her system lowering her walls.

"So I must be drunk." It's not said accusingly. Instead, the blonde nods, sniffing and crossing her arms. Her beer's propped against her bicep, and she tilts her head just enough that longer strands of her hair fall across her cheeks.

Beca sighs again. "I kind of have to assume so…?"

Sucking her lower lip into her mouth, Aubrey hums. "I see." Her eyes lid, then unfocus. She pivots on her heels, staring away, body swaying microscopically until, "So wait." It's like her words are molasses as she turns back, talking intently and louder over the sound of Justin-or-something's iPod and the collected voices of the other groups singing along to what sounds like an uninspired top twenty hit, "You think I don't like you?"

"You haven't exactly been welcoming."

"We've barely talked."

"I'm an excellent judge of character?"

Aubrey snorts. Her shoulders ripple as she takes a lusty gulp of her drink, the action shortly followed by what is now familiar dark green eyes that snap at Beca's. "Do you not like me?"

"Wh-what?" Blinking, Beca hadn't expected that.

"Simple question." Aubrey raises her eyebrows. "Beca."

The way she says (and has been saying that entire night) Beca's name is so different than Jesse's absurd "Be-caw!" The girl's obviously drunk, like Jesse had been, but her from-what-Beca-had-seen-normally strong tone is still there, controlling and brash and almost challenging, even through the slight fuzziness.  _Not good._ That's ridiculously attractive, too.

Beca's never been quite sure how to deal with people who challenge her who do  _not_  seem to be cowed by her responding attitude. It's a specific class of people, and one Beca's reaction gets tied up with wanting to at least meet the person halfway without giving and okay maybe there's some undeniable appealing feelings in there too.

 _Retreat_.

Scratching her nose, Beca takes a sliding step to the side, starting to exit Aubrey's personal space. "You're…" she starts, strategically looking at Aubrey's cheek instead of meeting her eyes, "Well, not the  _most_  annoying person on this planet."

Aubrey's still raised eyebrows quirk. A frown flirts on her lips.

"And maybe your dedication won't be as annoyingly obsessive once I see you in action." Beca almost snorts, regaining her footing as she finally meets Aubrey's gaze, smirking, "But that's a Hail Mary guess. I'm not counting on that."

Tilting her head, Aubrey studies Beca, her fingers scratching along her drink. "You…" she lobs, pursing her lips for a second before closing the distance Beca had accomplished, "…'re very outspoken, aren't you."

"You expect anything different?"

Aubrey smirks. "No," she crosses her arms again, leaning in close. "I just expect that you'll be more problems than you're worth."

Beca studies Aubrey's eyes, and before she can stop herself, "Are you going to give up, then?" she breathes. She's not sure if she sounds hopeful or worried, and, as she curses herself for letting that out, she comforts herself with the hope that Aubrey's already too far gone to understand nuances.

 _So much for retreating_.

Eyes darkening, Aubrey frowns deeply. "I  _never_  give up," she hisses, huffing, extremely insulted. Taking a jerky step back, she raises her finger, again the one attached to her hand holding her beer, opens her mouth, snaps her jaw shut, and shakes her head. "You're too much trouble,  _Beca_ ," she finally presses out, voice full of slow, drunk, neurotic ire, " _Mitchell_. Too much.  _Too alternative_. For the  _Bellas_." Pushing her other hand forward, Beca's eyes tracking her trajectory as the back of her knuckles skim heavily along her cheek again, making Beca flinch-shiver, Aubrey lifts her beer hand to poke furiously at the air in front of Beca's face. "I never give up."

Then, it's like a switch flips, and she draws away, staring inscrutably at Beca before shifting on her foot, completely shutting Beca out as she starts walking down the stairs.

Beca blinks. Frowning, eyebrows down and up in equal measure, she darts her gaze around. She's… Not sure what she's feeling. Swallowing, she licks her lips, resettling on her feet to retrieve her equilibrium and confidence.

"I look forward to it," Beca calls back, not expecting to be heard. Aubrey's reactive tossing up of her hand as she weaves down the steps tells her, though, that the blonde had. "Great. Probably shouldn't have said that, then…"

Still thinking about what had just transpired, how close Aubrey had been, and how  _screwed_  she is, Beca barely manages a large, fake, covering smile for the announcing herself behind her Fat Amy. Good. Distraction.

Only, Aubrey's laugh sounds below, and Beca's eyes flick down to blonde hair and pink shirt before flying back up.

Ugh. Not good.

She redoubles her attention onto the amusing Australian, smiling crookedly and nodding along to what sounds like a story about Tasmanian devil wrestling.

...She's definitely screwed.


End file.
